Dead Pond

by Hawzey

Son of Voldemort and Bellatrix. Mortimer was content in his own little world. That is until an old man with the shiniest eyes appears. Now he has to adapt into this new and strange world. With no one to really 'guide' him, Mortimer must now navigate his way and find his own footing. Hopefully the year goes smooth. . . Going on year 4.

40. Chapter 40

AN: First off, I want to thank SlimyFish for letting me know about the cover thing. I had honestly forgotten all about that, I was not aware that people were essentially seeing a picture I drew in high school of me eating chocolate as a cover... so thank you :B I'll say this now, I DO NOT OWN THIS IMAGE. I MAKE NO MONEY OUT OF IT.

I also wanted to say, I like writing. I enjoy it. It makes me forget about life. I also enjoy psychology fiction. Love reading the study of mental behaviors and how someone might process and function in certain scenarios. And that's essentially what the main character is. Which may not be for everyone, and that's cool. Some might get impatient with the character's choices and traits for their own reason, which is why I encourage everyone to write their thoughts, it helps me understand and get somewhat in your mind. So yeh, don't worry, love it, hate it, we'll still be friends.

Lemme just thank these peeps real quick...

HossamGasser0: Thanks, love the passion. xD

SlimyFish: Thanks again about the cover. I normally write these in my phone and have the image settings off. So whenever I browse through stories, I just get default FF image cover. Also, thanks for the review and suggestions, it's given me time to think about what I want to do with the story, going forward. And I agree about the interactions between him and trio, very weak on my part but I'm trying to see what works and what stinks.

RyuuFuyuScarlet: I've gone back through some of the chapters and yes, you are correct. I've seen the grammatical errors. I plan of fixing them... someday... (._.") I'm also glad you enjoyed the chapter! Stress often makes people hostile so... who knows?

Thank you everyone else for reading. Also, if I don't post again before Christmas, I'm just going to say it here. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone! Follow/Fav/Review

Slytherin versus Gryffindor, that's all people could talk about in the upcoming days. Leading up to it, Draco had reserved himself among his house. Demanding nothing but silence as he concentrates, getting his head in the zone. Not just him, but the entire team as well. Treating the game with such significance, you'd think they were heading straight to war.

His house was in shambles once the day drew closer. Their paranoia made him look sane as Mortimer walked in the great hall the following morning. The Slytherin team huddled together, they kept to themselves and gathered together around the table. In a strange cult like way, they whispered and tried to avoid staring at the competition. Weird, superstition Mortimer didn't get involved, and instead, lets Draco and the rest of team hail to the skies and hope they win.

Just before entering the great hall, Mortimer pulled out his pocket mirror. Carefully he inspects his eyes. Finding nothing wrong, he puts in back and walks towards the Slytherin table, which was fully packed.

Reserving himself next to Theo, who was equally anxious for the game, spoke to him. "They seem to be taking it serious."

Grabbing a muffin, Mortimer stares over to find Flint giving his team a firm talk to, giving sharp gestures, sometimes pointing at Draco. "Yeah, Flint's already punishing them before the game."

Theo, reaching for a large plate bacon, sought to see their serious expressions, it was quite daunting to see. "Can't help but feel bad, huh?" Taking a bite. "A lot of pressure is being put on this game."

Without looking, Mortimer seemingly went on as normal. "It's the finals, of course it's going to be stressful. Just this morning, I found Pucey talking to his quidditch gear, thinking it'll bring him luck."

Hearing his friend chuckling under his breath, Theo starts filling his plate with various foods while Mortimer kept his eyes casted downwards. The eerie, unnatural glow of his eyes were kept hidden underneath the charm he had place earlier that morning. The color would sometimes fade but out of nowhere, would come right back. At some point, Mortimer had to carry around a small pocket-sized mirror, just to make sure he wasn't walking around with a set of chilling sights aiming at students. Those who took note of his weird behavior, thought Mortimer to be conceited - Another Gilderoy Lockhart to add to the list of pompous wizards. But he didn't care, he rather have them think of him as someone who cares for looks rather than seeing the truth behind the motive. He wasn't sure how long he could keep this up, how long it will last. Dumbledore was nowhere near finding the answer, he too has yet to approach him with a solution. And frankly, Mortimer wasn't sure if he'd be able to fix it.

On the bright side, Draco was still Draco. After revealing his discolored eyes, there was a moment of rational fear. Granted, Mortimer didn't think it was all too bad. . . given the reaction, he was reminded how otherworldly he must've appeared. After calming him down a bit, he explained what little he could - Avoiding the Black topic, Mortimer retained most of what happened in the previous year. However, their conversation was cut short when Flint unexpectedly barged in their dorm, demanding Draco's presence at the quidditch pitch. Since then, they haven't spoken much as Draco's undivided attention was solely on this game. The one that everyone seems to be freaking out over.

"Mortimer!" Hearing his name being called, he peeks to his side.

Tracey, wearing green and silver war paint on each side of cheeks, walks up to him. Noticing she was holding a jar of paint. "Are you going to cheer for Draco?"

Not like he had much of a choice, as terrible as it sounds, he cared little for the sport. Much less the fanatics it drew in as everyone wore the colors of their supporting teams. From reds to greens, Mortimer put on none and instead decided to dress himself in dull grey. "You're wearing that to the game?" Coming behind Tracey, Daphne came into view, wearing a dark fuzzy green sweater, holding a set of silver pom poms.

"Hard to believe, I know." He sighed. "They'll be too busy staring at me, no one's going to notice the game."

Folding her arms together, Daphne smirked. "How cute." Leaning forward, she reaches to hold of his arm. "C'mon we're going to change all that."

Refusing to move, he leers down where her hand had been placed. He didn't like being grabbed. "Theo. . . kindly tell Greengrass to jog on. I'm not interested."

Smiling, Daphne couldn't let the opportunity slip away. "Theo, kindly tell Black he's a fool if he thinks he'll get away so easily."

"Greengrass..."

"Black..."

Her hand remaining at his wrist, was not intimidated when Mortimer stood upright to meet the witch's glare, their eyes clashed together. Sure, she may be shorter than him, but her menacing look was threatening enough, any onlookers wouldn't venture in her sights. Neither backed down from their spots. Mortimer, refusing to play, stood his ground. Daphne, not one to walk away from a challenge, stays glued to the floor. All the while, their friends watch in silence. Theo was almost afraid to make a sound, not one to risk his neck for either of them. Given by Tracey's fidgeting body, she quickly puts herself in between. "Let's not fight guys, let's save it for game, you know? Against Gryffindor, the real enemy."

Taking Daphne hand, she gently removes them from Mortimer's whitened knuckles. "Mortimer," Tracey lightly says. "don't you think Draco would appreciate the full support?"

Had it been any other person, Mortimer would've simply waved them off. With Tacey's doey eye stare, he was having trouble dismissing her ridiculous request.

Rubbing his face with the palm of his hand, "Just don't get any paint on the clothes," he breathed. "They were finely pressed this morning."

Beaming at their success. With no time to waste their impatience showed as the girls quickly dragged Mortimer out of the great hall and into the slytherin common room. Little did Mortimer know; he wouldn't be able to leave until the time leading up to the game.

---

Watching as both teams walked out to the field, the rally of cheers and whistles increased. The announcer, Lee Jordon, a gryffindor, began the roll call for today's game. Those including the Weasley twins, Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnent, Potter and so on. Leading them was their quidditch captain, Oliver Wood. On the green side there was Cassius Warrington, Graham Montague, Miles Bletchley, they were giants compared to Draco, who was the smallest of the bunch but nonetheless, stood proud and walked alongside them. Their leader, Marcus Flint, struts right onto the middle of the field, his head up high, everyone could see just how serious this game was being taken.

Dully, Mortimer can be spotted waving two small flags. His entire face painted in both green and silver. Wearing a green guernsey sweater, a silver snakes embedded on the fronts, he grimaces as he's never felt so demeaned. "Cheer up, Mortimer!" Tracey shaking his arms in excitement. "The game's starting."

"Right. . ."

Madam Hooch makes her presence known, "Captains, shake hands!" standing between the two captains, they take hold of said hands. Although if one were to take a closer look, you could easily tell they were trying to smash each other's fingers, hoping to fracture a bone.

At her mark, Madam Hooch blew her whistle. During which time, both teams had flown up into the sky. A ripple effect, everyone in crowd began to scream, the adrenaline running through the crowd, both Potter and Malfoy roamed the area in search for the snitch.

As their seekers forged their brooms, Spinnet was able to catch the quaffle and was trying to make a goal. Cassius manages to block her, but in doing so, was instantly hit with a bludger by one of the Weasley twins. The quaffle, coming down, is quickly caught by Angelina Johnson. "Ohh! Nice possession of the quaffle by Jonhson - An even better swerve around Montague - " Comments Jordan with great enthusiasm, no one could take their eyes away.

A bludger nearing her direction, rebuffs when, "A score! She scores, Johnson scores! Ten-zero to Gryffindor."

First score in the game, she raises her fist in the air in celebration, along with the rest of her teammates. Though, her brighten demeanor is quickly shut off as she was nearly thrown out of her broom once Flint crashes next to her. "Ouch! A hit coming from - no so fair - Marcus Flint -"

Putting on an innocent act, Flint raises his hands, "A mistake - I didn't see her!" Though, received an endless number of boos. A few seconds later, however, Fred launched his club towards the back of Flint's head. Which caused him to face forward on his own broomstick, bleeding at an instant.

The game was getting nasty as both teams tried to out beat the other, "That's enough!" Yelled Madam Hooch, gesturing her left arm. "Penalty shot to Gryffindor for attacking their Chaser." Gesturing, her right arm. "And Penalty shot to Slytherin for damaging their Chaser!" Blowing her whistle, she ignores Fred's protests.

Spinnet, taking a penalty shot, Oliver Wood yells out. "Come on, Alicia! Don't mess up now."

A moment of silence that swiftly leads to noisy screams of victory when, "Yes! She's beaten the keeper! And the score is now, Twenty-Zero to Gryffindor. Hurrah!"

It was now Flint's turn. His nose still bleeding, flies forward, waiting for Hooch to blow the whistle. At the sound of a high-pitched noise, taking aim, his attempts were unsuccessful as Oliver Wood manages to fend the quaffle from being scored. "An excellent block. Brought to you by Gryffindor's finest! Wood saved it! He saved the goal!"

The game progressing, Gryffindor and Slytherin went back and forth, acquiring the quaffle before the other managed to swoop down and take for themselves. Katie Bell was able to obtain it longer than anyone else, "Katie Bell with the quaffle, racing up the field! Hey! That was intentional!"

Graham Montague weaved his broom upwards in front of Bell, causing her to cartwheel into the air. She almost fell but somehow was able to stay on her broom. As a result, had dropped the quaffle.

Tweeet! And Madam Hooch approaches the slytherin chaser. Allowing Gryffindor another penalty shot, Katie scored. Now Thirty-Zero, Gryffindor was in the lead.

"Serves you right! You no good cheating -"

"Jordan! If you can commentate in an unbiased way -"

"I'm saying it like it is! Professor!" Jordan's boom boxing voice causes a laugh from the crowd.

Instantaneously, Potter can be seen trying to avoid getting hit by the slytherin beaters, one coming from the left, the other right. Ready to crash and within his range, Harry instantly turns his firebolt up, making both beaters collide against each other.

"Yes!" Praised Wood. Angelina grabbing the quaffle, she was currently being chased by Marcus. Who then takes hold of it, only to finally give Slytherin their first score.

A rally of cheers coming from the slytherin house. Noting their seriousness, the game took a turn for the worse. Lucian Bole, a slytherin beater, had knocked Spinnet over her head. Only to have George Weasley, elbow Bole right in the face. Madam Hooch would proceed to give both houses retribution, Oliver saving the goal and Flint losing the other, the score was now Forty-Ten. Both Potter and Malfoy continued to look for the snitch, with little results when Katie scored again. Fifty to Ten, George and Fred sought to protect her. A mistake on their part, for their absence gave Bole and Derrick a chance to strike Wood right in the gut.

Slytherin was fighting dirty, because of this, Gryffindor was able to score once more bringing it to, Sixty-Ten.

Another score from Gryffindor, it was Sixty-Ten to Seventy-Ten.

Gryffindor, sixty points ahead, their fans cheered and waved their banners. At the same time, Slytherin tried to remain hopeful, praying the snitch to be captured.

Harry must've spotted it as he bolted with speed. Once Draco noticed, he too dashed right behind him. Panic spread among syltherin's, if Potter caught the snitch now, Gryffindor would win the house cup. There was a sharp wave of gasp once Potter stretched his hand, the snitch practically at the tip of his fingers. His broom progressively getting slower and slower. Looking for the cause, he realizes Malfoy had jumped out of his broom and onto his, dangling above the air.

"Penalty!" Yelled Hooch from across the field. "Why I've never seen such foul play! Malfoy - to your broom, now!"

The game commencing, Spinnet's shot was blocked and quickly apprehended by Montague, who was able to score.

Scores gathering, it all came down once the snitch appeared onto the pitch. Both Potter and Malfoy racing for their lives, the golden snitch floated below, close to the grass. Veering down, Draco grips his broom stick and immediately descends with Potter pursuing him.

He was close, Draco was so close, he could almost feel the snitch wrapping around the palm of his hands... Just a little bit more...

Nobody expected Potter to throw himself off. In one swift motion, he pushes Draco's arms and dove his body, his hands capturing the snitch, Gryffindor had won the Cup.

The crowd applauded and cheered, jumping in the air as Potter was surrounded by his teammates. Hugging and yelling, they patted his back and scuffed his hair when he found himself being carried by the team.

As Mortimer watched the winning team feasting on the celebratory victory, he could faintly spot the little blond boy crouched on the grass field with head hanging low, his broom was thrown to side.

Mortimer would wait for him patiently.

But first he needed to burn all these clothes... and probably his face too.

---

Sitting in front of the great lake, Mortimer and Draco watch the cool calming waves gently brushing the surface. Neither saying a word for a long time. Draco was still wearing his quidditch uniform when Mortimer reached him. He appeared dejected and distant; his mind was elsewhere. There was nothing Mortimer could say that would faze him out of this state.

Showing only his presence, it was a silent meaning to let Draco know he has support. The mere fact Mortimer hasn't been kicked out let's him know that the blond was thankful. Though, it didn't mean much as he helplessly looks at Draco sulk in his own self-pity. It was silly. A game that meant little to Mortimer, clearly meant a lot more to Draco.

After a while, Mortimer mustered up courage to speak. "You did great."

Draco, offering only a side glance, goes back to stare at the shore. Feeling for the blond, Mortimer remained supportive, "Far better than I'd expect, I didn't know you could go so fast."

Solidus silence was his answer. Fiddling with his finger, Mortimer was running out of things to say. Words aren't his forte, especially when it came to making someone feel better. Was there a correct answer? A magical word that will instantly make things better? If there was, Mortimer needed to look for it. The truth is, Draco was sulking and feeling like an absolute loser, a very stubborn and adamant boy, whether Mortimer tries, convincing Draco was a foolish undertaking.

"I'm a failure." Draco spoke quietly, his head lowered, he couldn't face Mortimer.

Kicking his feet, Mortimer watches the pebbles tumble across the ground. "I thought you did pretty well, all things considered..."

A snort, Draco shook his head in denial, his posture becoming more sunk when he realizes the extent of his loss. "Father isn't going to like this."

Ah, yes, how could he forget about Father and his pulling strings. He could say, Lucius' opinion shouldn't matter. Though, telling Draco he didn't need his father's approval was like telling him not to breath. The boy lived to uphold the family name, including, living up to his parents' expectations. More so, earning the approval and respect of his father. He doesn't get it, what was so important about making the man proud? Would Draco get something in return? It didn't seem likely. The short few moments he had with his uncle and seeing firsthand the type of person he truly was, Draco was running a fool's errand. It was admirable, the way he kept trying, and seeming to always fail, Mortimer felt bad for him in a sense.

Frustrated and near broken, Draco began raking through his hair. "Why him? Why does Potter always have to win? Why should he get the glory? A half-blood," He spits, "a lesser wizard compared to me! Me! A Malfoy, who is far superior -"

Here we go... "That's just the problem, Draco." Mortimer interrupts, pursing his lips, he avoids Draco's glaring leer.

"What?"

Leaning back against the wooded bench, he uses his arms for support. "Have you thought that maybe - Just maybe - you're going about it all wrong? That perhaps, karma is catching up to you?"

Frowning, he clenches his jaw shut for a moment. Speaking as if he heard wrong. "I thought you don't believe in that kind of garbage."

"I don't believe in a lot of things. Sometimes I don't even believe I'm really here." Pulling his head up, Mortimer looks towards the grey sky. "What I do believe in, bad things happen to bad people. They get to feel good for a while, a few jabs here and there. But none of that will matter once the other person gets the last laugh."

Aggressively, Draco turns to face Mortimer, challenging his words. "And what about you? Are you a bad person? Do you deserve everything that's happened to you over the past few years?"

Mortimer halts, still avoiding his glowered cast. He's had time to think about it, and though, he didn't understand why things happen the way they did. He saw no reason into diving further. "Who knows -" he said in an uncaring manner, because this wasn't about him it was about Draco. "Instead of focusing your attention on Potter, maybe you should worry about your own image. We're the most hated people in the school - probably - You, an entitled brat. Me, son of a death eater. You only prove them right when you go rile them up."

Sneering, Draco brought an inquiry. "Is that why you're all chummy with Lovegood and Weasley?"

"No," He quickly says. 'It's different. They came to me through different circumstances." Even if he did decides tomorrow, he no longer wanted to be friends with them, they wouldn't let him go so easily. "My point is..." He contemplates on his word choice, only to realize there is no nice way to say it. "You're a git and had you focused more on the snitch than trying to kick Potter of his broom stick, than you probably would've won."

Getting up from the bench, Mortimer watches as his body turns tense, clenching his hands together, yelling above him. "I thought you were here to cheer me up!"

"Honestly? I didn't think you'd care for it; I gave that task to Theo." Smirking, Mortimer leans forwards. "And if you were expecting me to kiss your boo boo's, I gave that job to Greengrass."

"What's she going to kiss me with? Her fists? She'd murder me."

"It'll be safer if you played dead."

A short while, they stare at one another hoping the other one would blink. Until it was broken by a relentless amount of laughter, growing more and more contagious with each passing second.

Relaxing, Draco sits back down, watching the lake in leisure. "By the way..." Hearing Mortimer's talk in a kindly manner. "You really were great out there. You managed to avoid the beaters throughout the game. And the way flew up to distract Johnson so Montague could score, very good."

Resting his chin on top of his knuckles, Draco's expression returns back to its pouting state. "Just not good enough to beat Potter."

"Forget him, and everyone else." Mortimer shakes his head, picking up a pebble, the color of magenta, he puts in his pocket. "I'm proud of you, your friends are proud of you, your house is proud you, that should be enough. And who knows, with enough practice and FOCUS, you'll get the snitch, next time."

A sigh, Draco seemed as though he wanted to say something but, in the end, gives a solid nod before going back to the calming sounds of the water clashing against the other.

"I need a favor." Mortimer said, his eyes facing the lake, he continues. "I need you to tell your father to hold of the execution on the hippogriff."

Perplexed, his request came from nowhere that Draco could hardly act. "Why on earth would I do that?"

Gripping his hands together, he had to come up with excuse, and fast. Without thinking, Mortimer spurred the first person that came to mind. "Luna?"

"Luna?" Draco repeats, though his tone was more of the side of distasteful. Rapidly blinking, he asks. "Lovegood? You want to save that filthy beast. . . for Lovegood?" He was in severe bewilderment. "Why?"

Rubbing the back of his head, Mortimer continues this trail of a little lie. "Uh - She's grown rather fond of him and if something were to happen to Buckbeak, she'll be really upset." He cringed, even he had trouble believing it.

"Buckbeak!?"

"I didn't name the damn thing..." He jumps in his seat. "Anyways, I thought maybe you could. . ." Shrugging, trying to appear collected, seeks by asking. "Tell Lucius, if he could hold on to that whole execution thing."

Draco's silver irises pop and the volume in his throat increases. "You're crazy. Truly - you've gone nuts -" Denial shaking in his bones, he couldn't trust his own voice to finish. "Please..." Begging this was a joke. "Please, tell me you haven't fallen for LOONY Lovegood. A Ravenclaw! And a Bloodtraitor! You're having me off, aren't you?"

"Hey! I did what you asked - I don't show her in public, she doesn't sit in our table anymore, and we hardly acknowledge each other on the floor. Can't you just do this one little thing for me? You don't even have to beg."

Taken aback, Draco couldn't believe what he was hearing, his own cousin asking him, to help a ravenclaw. It has to be joke, there was no way Mortimer was being serious. Looking for anything that will tell him otherwise, he was unable, causing him to pucker his forehead even more.

"Just ask." Mortimer sounding serious, there wasn't a sign of a jest in his features, he was actually serious.

With Draco hovering over, Mortimer was beginning to think he wouldn't accept. "Fine." Finally, he could breathe again he was relieved Draco had agreed.

Seeming as though he was beaten, Draco plunges right back down on the wooded bench, sighing heavily. "But tell me - really - you aren't doing this to impress Lovegood, are you?"

Mortimer could feel himself gagging at the thought, "Eew, gross - No." He says strongly. "She's a friend, nothing more."

Rasing a brow, he asks. "You mean to tell me you don't find her attractive?"

"Well, sure, she's cute - in a weird, scary kind of way - but I can't imagine... see her in that sort of way, nor she for that matter. Luna doesn't have many friends. . . and the other members of her house tend to pick on her for being different..." He can already feel his nails piercing through skin as he grips them shut. "What can I say? I can relate."

Despite using Luna as an excuse to get Draco into doing what he wanted, what he said was the truth. How he actually felt regarding his ravenclaw friend. The same could go for Ginny, they were his friends who weren't ashamed to be around him, knowing where he came from and how far deep his blood goes, they could hardly care. It amazes him. For that, he'd never want to ruin what they had built, not even for a quick snog.

It was simply not worth it. Changing the subject, Draco was curious about something they haven't been able to fully discuss. "How's the eyes? Any improvements?"

To answer his question, Mortimer had retrieved his wand, giving it a quick flick. Revealing his ruby eyes. Unlike the other days, today they were faded. However, it didn't make things any better, they were still there, and he was no closer to solving it. "They seem a little better... today at least..." Mortimer mumbles, noting Draco's recoiling response.

"Ye-Yeah." He didn't need to guess to know Draco was still nervous about the eyes, he didn't blame him, though it still bothered Mortimer. His own cousin couldn't even look at him without flinching. Fiddling his fingers, Draco looked to be in thought, "Maybe we could tell father... He'd probably know something."

"No offense, if Dumbledore couldn't find anything what makes you think your father will?" The guy maybe be the head of a prominent family, but Lucius was just as daft compared to others.

Staring back at the lake, the giant squid decides to stretch its large tentacles., raising it up at the sky a large wave ensues. "He has an extensive library of books... the one's you aren't supposed to share..." His voice lowering. "He could look into it."

Mentioning his father, the answer was obvious. A big giant...NO. Although hadn't out right said it, Draco was only trying to help and didn't want to discourage him. He's had bad day and poking him would make matters worse. "I'll think about it."

Accepting his response, Draco merely nods and takes in the scenery. Whispering under his breath, Mortimer hides his velvet eyes once again, returning them to their once dark ones.

Running his finger through his hair, Draco asks in a quiet tone. "Do you really think it's your father...?"

Holding his wand, he shortly answers. "If not him. . . who else? He could be an animagus for all we know."

"I don't think it's possible. Father says he's gone. Dead. There's no chance of him coming back."

Mortimer didn't know whether to feel sorry for him or smack him upside the head for his blindness. His determination to avoid the real problem had Mortimer questioning himself. "Well, if it isn't him, then who do you think is trying to ruin to my life." He jeered.

Sitting there quietly, his features turn serious as he attempts to answer, his lips pressed together before saying. "You uncle?"

An unexpected answer, Mortimer had to repeat it just to make sure he heard right. "Uncle? You mean Morfin Gaunt? Is he even alive?"

"Last I heard... yeah, he is."

Once more, they turn away from each other, letting the thought sink in. Draco may think differently, and maybe there is a possibility. Gaunts made it no secret in their interests of the dark arts, in fact, they've been very vocal about it, loved it. If given the chance, they'd probably go out into the streets and start cursing everyone coming their way. They were that mad in their bloodlust, Mortimer wouldn't be surprised if they tried to kill him for being the half-blood that he is.

Regardless, Mortimer didn't think so. He didn't even think Morfin knew of him. Reading an old newspaper he found at the manor's library, Morfin was completely out of touch with reality. He was already insane when they arrested him. What Azkaban has done to him all these years; the man was probably off his rocker.

It was an interesting idea, and it was actually one, Mortimer was very keen to approach. He'd do it someday as there were more important things to focus on.

Fiddling with his wand, Mortimer rises from his seat, walking towards the lake, a glimpse of soothing motion of water. Nearly touching the tip of his shoes, Mortimer lifts his wand, pointing it at the lake. "Aqua Eructo."

At his command, water arises, and a nice cooling thread of liquid starts forming. Focusing, he concentrates on his wand movement, holding it steady until he carefully starts rotating his wrist. He was gentle in his movements and his eyes were fixated on carrying the weight of water, he failed to notice Draco approaching from behind.

"What are you doing?" Hearing the pitch of his tone, Draco appeared to be amazed.

Circling his hand, the liquid was starting to form into a simple ball. "Practicing." He whispered, not wanting to break the immersion.

Now standing beside him, Draco couldn't take his eyes off. "Practicing for what?"

"A trick I'm working on."

Continuing, he slopes his right hand before spreading his arms wide, causing the wet glob to split. Ignoring Draco's incoherent questions, Mortimer finds himself walking away, scouring the grounds for a target as he sustained each sphere with attentiveness.

The bench.

It felt like a long time, Mortimer nearly forgot Draco was still here with him.

Then, suddenly, vivid light turned blue, and a mighty convulsion rocked around him. Every footstep he took, the ground vibrated sending a chill done his spine. Quite the rush, his ears ring for a few seconds as he marks his target. In a single move, he closes his eyes and swipes his arm down with force. There was a loud crack echoing throughout the lake.

Opening his eyes, he saw where the old creaky wooded bench once rested. No longer a seat but has been reduced to nothingness. Wooded shards of splinters and pellets of timber remained. It had been terribly destroyed.

"What was that?" Draco's inquisitive glance as he observes the remaining fragments gave Mortimer a satisfying sensation of thrill.

There was nothing left, nothing to fix or put back together, it was simply gone.

For that, he found himself smiling. "Like it? I've been working on it for some time."

"Why?"

"Curiosity, mostly." Scratching his chin, he didn't notice Draco's troubled tone.

There a spare glance of concern roaming beneath his brows. "Well... stay safe. Experimenting spells can be really dangerous if you aren't careful enough."

"I will."

Turning around, he was able to get a closer look at Draco. He looked better than he did prior to coming here. Much of what they talked was enough to distract him from the loss of the game; and that was good thing. Perhaps now he was feeling a little better.

"Thank you... for you know..." Draco said in a hush tone, the wind blowing a few strands of his hair to show the gratitude on his face.

Scrunching his nose, Mortimer jokingly shoved his shoulder back. "Don't let anyone catch you getting sentimental."

Chuckling, "Shut up." he follows Mortimer's lead as they head back to the castle.

Slytherin may have lost the cup, and sure, Gryffindor will most definitely rub it in their faces in the upcoming days - Regardless, their house will survive the loss. Training and growing stronger they'll recover and strike once more, better than anyone else has ever seen.

At least that's what he told himself.

---

Crossing his legs together, Mortimer sat, his back resting on the tree. Listening the birds chirping and leaves blowing. The weather was beginning to warm up as everything that had died in the winter came flourishing again.

Trying to rebuild his shields, he concentrates on the picture he conjured up in his mind. His happy place. It being a single white room where no one can get in or out, it was just him and his thoughts to keep him busy, he focuses on the image for several minutes.

It is comforting and almost familiar to him.

Then, he remembers why. It was the same place he use to reside in once he was unable to live in Nana's home.

It was his little white room.

Breathing in and out, he repeats this for a couple of seconds. Digging inside his own memories he found nothing that resembled a moment in time where he was ever truly happy. Most of it consisted of being locked in a dark, dusty old cubbyhole where he'd fall asleep, or make funny little drawings with the accumulating dirt on the creaky floorboards. He wasn't allowed to make a sound, which meant he was unable to walk around or move about, for the house's walls where thinnest there was. He wasn't sure how this house was still holding up, if a fly were to land, he no doubt be crushed and buried underneath all this junk.

Waving this thought away he remains in his contemplative state, ignoring Tobey as he endlessly continued to ramble about the stupid rat that was following, watching him, supposedly. . .

Staying in the focus for nearly an hour, Mortimer was relieved when no vision came up. Seeing as a sign that he was improving, he was able to relax and take in the fresh air.

For a moment, he thought of nothing. He sat calmly, enjoying the view of the forest. Watching a few animals passing by, he felt very relaxed. In his tranquil state, picks up a leaf, fiddling it, he stares deeply.

An instant crackle sound, the leaf is set ablaze.

Burning in his fingertips, feels its warmth reaching downwards. Letting it fall to the ground, he grabs another one, and gazes in earnest.

Another loud crack, its abruptly set alight.

It was interesting. Even without his wand he was still able to set the leaf aflame with ease.

Repeating this step until he grew bored, he was interrupted by a snarl.

Hearing the noises throughout the whole semester, Mortimer has become familiar with it.

Looking left and right, he couldn't seem to find the source of where the growling was emitting from. It was always the same threatening and angry yowl that tried to intimidate him. Mortimer not understanding, was starting to think the noise he was hearing was connected to his dreams. Maybe they were one and the same. It stuck out to him and made sense in his mind. Both seeing and hearing the animalistic similarities, Mortimer was starting to believe fate was brewing something special, just for him.

"Whoever you are..." Mortimer said out loud, his voice echoed in the air. "I'm not afraid - Come any closer and find out what I can really do."

Remaining in seated position, he leans back, still scouting the woodland area. "Tobey." He whispered.

"Yes, Master?"

"Search the area. Now."

At his behest, Tobey, right away, crawls out from his shirt and immediately slithers down on the dirt ground and scurries in haste. Vanishing in some bushes, Mortimer stays cool and rests his head back.

He hates the waiting but sending Tobey out was probably the safest choice, least then he'd wouldn't have to look over his back. For half an hour, there was no sound, other than the noises nature provided, there wasn't anything unusual he could detect. At some point, he began to worry when Tobey didn't immediately return.

Until, finally, "Master."

"There you are - What happened?" Anxiously, he gets up from the ground. Troubledly, he grabs his sleek body, at the same time, patrols the countless tress and annoying shrubs that stood in the way. "Did you manage to get a good look of the target?"

"I have." He answers simple, not going in depth.

Staring without so much as a blink, Mortimer never understood how animals communicated, were they all this plain? He raises a question, one that demanded more information. "Well? What did you see? What'd it look like? Did you chase it? Did it run it away? Kill it? Tell me."

"I found a large welp, it's dark. I chased it and yes, it ran off as soon as I approached. No, I was unable to capture the large beast." He flicked his tongue as he stood on his master's palms. Mortimer couldn't read his expression, but something told him that Tobey was somewhat at a loss, befuddled for a particular reason.

Sensing the creature's confusion, Mortimer thought to question. "What is it?"

"It isn't real." Tobey said dimly.

Not this again... "What is wrong with you? Why do you keep saying that? First the rat and now you're telling me a giant dog is chasing me and even then, you keep saying it isn't real! Are you sure it wasn't the half-giant's dog that was following?"

"It was not him." Beyond a shadow of a doubt, Tobey answers. "He is real. The other one. . . is not."

Getting irritated by the constant repeat, he lets out a heavy breath. Taking a moment to compose himself and suppress the urge to squeeze this little worm, he needed to put an end to his half-witted belief. "Fine, Tobey - It's not real. Tell me, what is it? What part of it isn't real?"

This question, Tobey didn't immediately respond. If Mortimer were to guess, he'd say the cold-blooded reptile was actually thinking. His eyes widen, never has he seen his pet in such scrutiny as he thought of an answer. "Tobey?" He calls, seeming a little worried when he halts in his movements. The question might've been too much for him to handle and seeing how Tobey was breaking his little head trying to find the correct answer, Mortimer shifts to a different question. "That's ok, Tobey, you don't have to answer. Can you at least tell me if it said anything as it ran. Were you able to talk to each other?"

Not like a full conversation, but an understanding of what the thing that was chasing him wanted. Mortimer has learned that creatures are somewhat able to communicate with one another, through body language and sometimes, vocal language. It's possible Tobey could've tried and fend off the prey through intimidation.

A small hiss, Mortimer was relieved to hear. "Yes."

A breakthrough! "Good!" Mortimer exclaimed in success. Anticipatingly, Mortimer sets Tobey down and asks. "What did it say? What does it want?"

"It wants to protect." Tobey answers.

"Protect?" His body stiffened at the unexpected statement, he paces back and forth, trying to take in his meaning. "Protect what?"

"Protect him."

---

Working for Madam Pomfrey wasn't as bad as he had initially thought it'd be. She can curse like sailor and command like a Sergent, but under Snape's orders, Mortimer was here to serve. Apparently, during the last class period, a couple of gryffindors considered throwing Scurvy Grass into a boiling cauldron, Antidote for Common Poisons, to be their definition of fun.

As results, the entire third-class period, comprised of Ravenclaws, a few Gryffindor's and three Hufflepuffs, to pay the hospital wing a visit. Along the line of those students was his best friend in the whole wide world, Terry Boot.

His arms crossed and his brows knit, he was covered in a mixture of green-yellowish slime. There were small burn marks on the side of his face, most injures took place on his hands, where severe traces of scorches printed themselves on his skin.

"Mortimer, why don't you take care of Mr. Boot while I finish up here."

Because of course, why wouldn't she ask. "Ok." Replied Mortimer. Walking to one of the medical cabinets, retrieving Burn-healing Paste, he approaches the Ravenclaw.

The sight of him had Boot reacting quite dramatically. " Oh, no you don't! You're not coming anywhere near me, Black."

His sneer had Mortimer chuckling at the spot. "Have it your way, Boot. I could care less. In fact, I'd say it suits you - Definitely, an improvement over the previous one."

Growling, Boot stands upright and attempts to make his way to the exit. Terry stops midtrack, when he hears Mortimer say. "If I wanted to murder you, I would've used my bare hands to do it. I hate senseless subtlety."

Boot doesn't turn back, but exits, leaving the hospital wing entirely. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. Mortimer goes to next patient, Hannah Abbott. At, least she didn't run off like the Boot. She'd make a better patient as she does as he instructed, offering her hand to him, he takes it and begins rubbing it against her skin.

Wrapping a small bandage around it for a good measure, she thanks him before hopping off. The same technique was repeated on the other students. While some were reserved to having Mortimer treat them, others held their tongue out of politeness.

Healing their wounds and offering pepper-up potion's, students thought twice before insulting him.

"I can't thank you enough Mr. Black." Pomfrey praised. "I hadn't expected an entire class to show up at my doorstep, a record, so it seems. Oh! But thank goodness you've showed. I'd be overwhelmed by the end."

Professor Snape must've not told her he'd be coming here. Wondering why, Mortimer tried not to think about it. "I'm glad I could help. Is there anything else I could do?"

"No, you've done more than enough. And don't worry, I'll make sure your head of house rewards you for your assistance. Now, off with you, I've taken enough of your time."

"Right." Walking out of the Hospital wing, Mortimer made his way to the Dungeons. Needing to gather his texts and parchments, he was planning to work on his transfiguration assignment. After it was said and done, he was able to find a cozy little table set far end of the corner. Empty, Mortimer settled in right nicely and began writing his revisions on the Hardening Charm and the uses it had on wizarding society. A few paragraphs in, Mortimer flipped through his textbook, finding himself getting bored with it.

"May I sit here?"

Flipping a page, he doesn't look up to see. He didn't need to. And though it hasn't been hour, Mortimer told himself he was done. Shortly after, he'd close his textbook and begins to gather his items. "All yours, Granger." He said finally, before leaving the library.

Rubbing his entired face, he shakes it off. He needed to unwind.

---

With June soon approaching, Mortimer knew he had buckle down and really focus on his studies.

However, through some sick and twisted fate, has brought him here today in the direst of situations.

Jump rope.

There in the middle, two girls can be seen spinning and twirling the rope in rapid speed.

In a courtyard filled with a bunch first years, Mortimer began stretching and cracking his neck until. . .

"C'mon, Mortimer! You're next!" Yelled a small girl from the side.

Folding his sleeves, he counts to three before jumping right in.

During which they girls started to sing.

"Cinderella, dressed in yellow

Went upstairs to kiss a 'fella

Made a mistake

And kissed a snake

How many doctors

Did it take?"

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. . ."

They continue to count, and Mortimer paces himself, keeping up with Astoria as she jumps right in the middle of it.

Laughing and having a wonderful time, it was nice to see her relax for a bit. She was always so tense around him; it was rare to see her let her guard down. Unworried and carefree she counts along as Mortimer bounces.

"He's finally lost it, hasn't he?" Theo comments, watching from a distance.

"I dunno..." Tracey giggled, covering her mouth. "I think it's really adorable."

"Definitely." Daphne said, folding her arm she too couldn't suppress the from spreading across her face. "Tori seems to be enjoying herself well enough around him, I think he'd make a good brother."

"You mean brother-in-law?" Teased Theo.

Scoffing, Daphne was swift to reject the idea. "Don't make me sick..."

"Let's not tease her Theo, besides we both know she's waiting Zabini to court her himself." Tracey added, laughing harder when Daphne began blushing and looking away.

"What are you guys on about?" Draco asks. Parkinson was not far behind as she walked alongside him.

Almost instantly the three were no longer laughing, closing their mouths as they become mute.

When he didn't get an answer, he persists. "Well?"

A basic gesture, Theo points over his shoulder.

Pansy let's out a gasp while Draco's eyes widen in horror. "Draco. . ." Pansy placing a hand on his shoulder, he immediately shakes her off as he makes his way towards Mortimer.

Clueless, Mortimer feels his legs getting tired. His record ending at fifty, the girls let out a groan.

"Beat that, Tawny!" Breathed out Mortimer. Next to him, Astoria let's put a small laugh and then runs back to her friend.

Challenging the eleven-year-old girl wearing her hufflepuff uniform, she approaches the challenge. "You're on Black! I've played this game since I was five! I'll show you."

Grabbing her own rope, she hands it to her friend. "Make it doubles, Polly."

"Are yeh' sure?" One of them spoke, their heavy Irish accent asks.

Snorting, how dare they question her. "Pfft - Of course! I can do this in my sleep." Proclaimed the small hufflepuff.

As the girl named Tawny starts jumping in the middle, Mortimer watches from the sides.

"What do you think you are doing?" Draco's question can be heard from his spot.

"Jump rope." Mortimer replies, his arms folded his attention stays on the girl, hoping she takes a misstep. "Can't have her beating my record."

"Record? Record!? Mortimer." Pinching the bridge in of his nose at the outrage of seening such displays. "you're in courtyard playing with a bunch of girls! Not even from our year but first years? What's even worse, you've brought members of different houses."

"I needed a break." Getting nervous, the young hufflepuff was getting closer to beating him. "Don't be a damp."

"We can't be seen engaging with the other houses."

"Says who?"

"Everyone in the entire school!"

"Hold on -"

Just before Draco could reply, a loud cheer rang out from the courtyard. The hufflepuff, Tawny, jumped for joy, her friends congratulating her, "I win! See? I told you i'd beat him."

The new record around the area was now eighty-nine and to his disappointment, Mortimer had, nonetheless, shook her hand. "You sure did. Great work, Tawny."

Smiling, she nods. "Anytime you feel like losing, feel free to stop by." She said, waving her hand, decides to run off and start all over.

At which time, Draco dragged him away from the group. "Can't believe you'd go out of you way to beat a first-year."

Resisting shortly, Mortimer exclaims. "You should really get to them; did you know her that father is four-time hotdog eating champion? That's insane!"

"Enough," Draco scolded, shaking his head. "Finals are approaching and Mother has asked me to prepare you for it as you've clearly lost your mind."

"Jolly." Mortimer said in sarcasm, the girls were still waving at him, even Astoria, who beamed in delight asking they do it again sometime.

It was back to the books.

For the next few weeks, the school would turn into a colossal wave of mental strain and thumping headaches as exams had taken place. Even Mortimer was hsving trouble sleeping. Like the rest, fearing the failure of receiving a Troll for a grade. His nerves only increased as once Draco refused to let him out of his sights, bringing him almost everywhere.

Waiting for him at the end of classes and dropping him off to the next. When he wasn't sleeping, he could be easily be found sitting down with Draco and his other housemates in the library, a fort built around their table made by infinite amounts of books, foolery wasn't tolerated. He felt smothered to no end. By this point, Mortimer was ready to throw himself down the black lake.

Luna tried to help whenever she could, making him sit up side down as she'd read to him. Giving him a box of worms, claiming they were bookworms she found in rotten apples, when in reality they were just regular worms.

On Monday, he completed his Confusion Concoction just the right amount, fairly thick and fine in color, Professor Snape had nothing to add. Regardless, took two points for failing to tuck in his shirt that day. Later that day, he'd attend Defense against the Dark Arts, with Professor Lupin. They've not spoken much since thier small interaction during the holidays. A small comfort, Mortimer made sure they didn't spend more than a minute together as he could still feel the small hairs in back of his neck rise whenever Lipin approached him. The small scars on his face and new injuries became a concern for him, Mortimer was positive the man was a modern-day Jack the Ripper type figure.

For their finals, Lupin had dragged the entire class outside. It was a bright day, fairly warm, he created a barrier court. Going through a small pool filled with grindylow's - They'd also have to avoid getting thumped by potholes filled with Red Caps until they reached the swamp where they'd be misdirected by an annoying Hinkypunk. Towards the end, they will have to battle their boggart once more.

Seamus was currently going through the obstacles, as he did, the rest of the class used it to get some warm sun on their skin. Reserving himself, Mortimer sat at a nearby pond. Exercising his wand movement, he began playing with the water, manipulating into doing what he wanted. Using it to knock back small rocks and creating small holes in the ground, he was starting to see some improvements in his magic.

As Mortimer waited for his turn, a cold shiver runs down his spine, the same feeling he gets when facing, "Professor Lupin?" Peering over his shoulder he found the scruffy looking man standing from behind. He gets up from the ground and straightens his uniform. "Is it my turn?"

Putting his hands inside his pocket, Lupin cleared his throat and responds. "No - I just wanted to check up on you that's all." Taking a small break, he gathers his words. "I'm aware that this part of the final exam, but I'll understand if you want to skip the boggart - You'll still be able to pass regardless."

Smiling, Mortimer looks down at the water, his reflection showing, no sign of his flawed red eyes. "Thank you, Professor, but I'll be fine - Besides, it wouldn't be fair for the others."

"Are you sure?" Lupin, pushing the issue more causes Mortimer to take a step back. "I wouldn't want to force you -"

"I said I'll be fine!" Mortimer nearly snaps before realizing it, he swallows hard and counts to ten. "I'm sorry Professor." Composing himself, Mortimer fiddled with his tie. "I appreciate you looking out for my wellbeing, but I promise you it isn't needed."

"If you insist." He said quietly. Turning away, Mortimer was able to finally get some peace.

Eventually, it was his time to go through the course, he ignores everyone watching him, including the trio of idiots who didn't understand the meaning of subtlety.

For the most part, he was able to cross the marsh without any issues, and he avoided getting lost as the one legged beast whispered in his ears. Coming face with the boggart, he was surprisingly calm.

Once again taking form of his own beloved, sweet, caring, kind and every nice name you could think of, appeared before him, precious Nana.

Screaming and damning him to deepest pits of hell, Mortimer stood there, not a single ounce of emotion showed.

Finding her charred up figure, thrashing and limping in agony, he was in awe. Interesting how a person can still be concious during endless amounts of trauma, maybe it's the body going through shock... He wondered if Nana felt the same as this figured appeared to be in. If so, he couldn't be any happier.

A small laugh, he felt embarrassed. Covering his mouth with his fingertips, he wasn't sure what part he found amusing, only that he couldn't resist the little tickle in his throat, he couldn't seem to look away.

"Master." Tobey spoke close to his ear, snapping him out of it. "The humans..."

"Riddikulus!"Mortimer shouts.

A blizzard of snow submerges the boggart, morphing into a simple snowman within seconds as Mortimer holds his head high in pride.

Coming out of the obstacle course alive, Professor Lupin offers nothing in exchange, other than a passing grade. He waits back for the rest of the students.

The next day, Mortimer would go in for his finals in Charms and Transfigurations. Followed by Herbology and the difficulty of Ancient Runes.

Currently though, he was at the start of finishing his final for Muggle Studies. He was expecting to write an essay on the study of muggle society or take an exam on the overall lessons that were learned throughout the year. To his surprise, when he arrived that morning, students were greeted by a table filled with stacks of small wooden planks. Scratching their heads at the sights, Professor, Burbage emerges through the back end of the classroom, holding a crate that contained what appeared to be jars of nails and small hammers.

"Hello, everyone." She spoke when everyone began to take their seats. "I know some of you were all expecting an exam packed with questions, and I'm sure all of you have studied so. But - I thought, instead wracking our brains, let us return to simplicity. As you see class..." Setting down the box of supplies, a heavy thump sound spreads in the room. "Today, for your final exam, we will be creating bird houses!" She said enthusiastically.

However, the feeling was not shared. Small groans of protest, while others chuckled, not taking it seriously in the slightest. Professor Burbage scowled. "Yes, while some of you might think it's funny... Know that you will be graded on appearance and strength - Oh before I forget, no magic allowed."

A mass of gasps, those who were laughing were now silenced by the reality that using wands was no longer an option. "Not so funny now, huh, children."

Susan Bones raises her hands, "But Professor... How are we supposed to build a... bird house..." her face blanches as she finishes. "without our wands?"

There was agreement among the room.

"Do you not have hands?" Burbage asks, looking at the class she's never seen such objections. "Children, this is meant to be a good thing. We are learning the ways of muggle society by following their example when it comes to crafting and constructions. For many years, muggles have built magnificent structures using nothing but their bare hands. If one without magic can create basic facilities, why can't we?" Looking for a helping hand, she calls. "Mr. Black!"

Why me... "Yes?"

"You don't seem bothered by this, tell me, have you had any experience in this sort of field?"

Feeling eyes on him, Mortimer was sorely tempted to lie. Perhaps, he should've pretended to be disgusted like everyone. "Not as much as others, but I have..."

"Liar." Muttered Terry Boot. It was hard to believe that someone carrying the Black name would ever involve themselves with anything non-magical. Just being in the classroom was heresy enough.

Ignoring his accusation, Mortimer continued to say. "have played with it for a while."

"So then, this should be easy for you. Wonderful! See children? If a prominent person like Black can see pass the barrier of belief, I'm sure everyone else here can do the same, now come children, gather your supplies. You have exactly one hour to complete your birdhouses, I will be grading them thoroughly, so I suggest you take this matter very seriously."

As so they did. Mortimer couldn't help but notice their weary expressions. Never has he seen everyone so fidgety over the loss of a wand. They looked like chimps compared to him as they grabbed and looked at the hammers and saws, like they didn't know what to do with it, what they were meant for. It was sad, but most of all, funny. Megan Jones began cutting the plank by drilling a hole using the hammer and Michael Corner was poking the sharp ends of the cutting saw.

Aside from the rest of the class, Granger seemed only to be bothered by the lack of actual exam. She may be a bookworm, but a craftsman? No. It was astonishing to know she was having difficulty. While Professor Burbage walked around to make sure no one was taking out their wands and preforming the slicing spell, there was intrigue once Mortimer gather his items.

Drawing the outline before cutting right in, with the tools Burbage provided, Mortimer was able to get ahead. Creating four sides of the house and starting the bottom floor, he looks over shoulder, noticing the Professor observing him. Working on the roof, Mortimer created a small looking house with a couple of nails and some wood. Truth be told, he's never built a birdhouse, but he has worked outside before, not voluntary, of course. If he remembers correctly, sometimes Nana would force him out to reconstruct the fences around the house. Being the most hated around the neighborhood, hoodlums would pry in and break through the property's posts for mere giggles. But Mortimer never found it funny to begin with. It was a struggle, and it would nearly take him the whole day to put it back together. Making matters worse when the very next day, he'd find them broken again and forced to fix it once more.

A sigh, he knows he shouldn't be dwelling.

By the time he finished, he noticed he still had fifteen minutes left. Early than most, Burbage had encouraged him to start painting it. It wasn't a requirement but thought it would look lovely. The time spent painting was when everyone else was starting to finish.

At the sound of the bell, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Glad that the exams were finally over with, and they could head back to their kind of normal. Professor Burbage congratulated everyone on their hard work and effort. Dispersing, Mortimer was about to head out, feeling an itch out of the corner of his eye, Granger was staring. "Mr. Black, could I have a word?" Burbage asked, waiting in front of her desk, she was putting away some of the supplies that weren't used.

Walking back towards the classroom, Mortimer approaches Charity Burbage. "Yes, Professor?"

Showing Mortimer his own creation, Burbage couldn't help the fascination. "I must say, this is very fine craftsmanship."

"Thank you."

"I find it kind of ironic..." Burbage says dangling it above, she feels the softness of each cut, unable to find a splinter. "Miss Granger is a muggleborn, correct?"

"Uh..." Where was she going with this... "Yes?"

A nod, she continues. "Every day she faces new challenges of this world and so far, has executed it with fine grace. But today... she surprised me. Here we have a muggleborn who should've known better... was having difficulties creating something that's natural to her people. And yet, you." Pointing at him. "A pureblood, with no knowledge of muggles, raised by wizards and magic - were able to make something impressive as simple as a birdhouse... Are you sure you didn't use a wand?"

Gripping his hands, Mortimer cleared his throat. He didn't like her assumption. The string of distrust emitting from her tone, he didn't understand. "I'm sorry, Professor - But are you accusing me of cheating?" Sounding almost aggressive at the end.

Defensively, Burbage raises a hand. "I am merely suggesting... that I find it difficult to process the example you are setting for yourself. You took this class to learn from the other world. But it seems as though learning was never part of it as you seem to already know. So, tell me, why did you take this class? Were you trying to make fun of Miss Granger? Prove that you're better than everyone else?"

Tensing up, he grits his teeth. How dare she accuse him. Is this what she thought of him? That he was the type to go through all that work... all that effort, for a joke? And now, here she was sitting behind the desk, claiming false intentions on his behalf. Students were vocal about him, which was no longer a surprise. But a teacher? They were supposed to be unbiased... Yet, the opposite was happening here. She didn't seem to trust him or believe him in the slightest. He wanted to choke her just for the accusation.

Trying to calm his nerves, he inwardly starts building his walls. "I think I get it." Speaking softly, he offers a small smile. "But I assure you, there was no deception on my part. But - if you're still not convinced, I think you should take this little thing." Gesturing his creation. "over to my head of house, or the headmaster, and have them take a look. I'm sure they can clear up any concerns you may have."

Professor Burbage stood silent for a moment. Returning his smile, she nods. "I think I will, Thank you, Mr. Black."

Dismissing him, Mortimer stayed calm throughout the day.

Until the end, when he was finally able to be alone.

While the rest of the class worried about exams, his mind drifted towards his teacher. Pulling and stretching bodily amounts of water, using his wand, tossed heavy blows of liquid against a tree. Pretending it was Burbage's face on the bark, he continued to do this for almost an hour.

After he grew tired of punching Burbage - what he named the tree - He went back to practicing his previous plans.

Assuming he was able to escape Draco's shackles, he'd get a few moments to himself. Every now and then, he'd get anxious, expecting someone to come for him. Frankly, Mortimer was very eager to confront them head on. It was easy to forget he was still a boy, but he's never really felt that way. Never truly saw his inner child and he didn't think it was possible for him to try. The things children would often get excited about, he'd find to be boring. He wasn't intrigued nor amused by the constant foolery students engaged in. He was simply living day by day, waiting for it to happen. He doesn't know what it is, though, he'll know when it happens.

"Aqua Percutiens!" He yells, aiming it towards a heavy tree. A large gaping lash imprints itself on the bark, tracing it with his fingers. Not good enough.

Wiping his forehead, he feels a bit sweaty and decides to take off the itchy vest, leaving him only with a white shirt. "Fluctus Verbera!"

Forceful and violent, the motion was harsh enough to scrape the sides of the now very damaged timber.

"Make a birdhouse, she said." Shooting at the tree, he breathes heavily.

"Paint the birdhouse, it'll look great, she said." Aiming and striking, his wand points and creates a critical hit.

"Oh no, it looks too good! You must be cheating!" He yells out and smites.

A loud CRACK!

He stood there silent. A gasp of amazement, Mortimer approaches the tree. Excited, he pushes it with both hands. Mortimer was tempted to yell out 'Timber!' as it fell down in a brutal, violent manner.

A sense of accomplishment, he wanted to... he wasn't sure what he wanted to do with it. The point of learning was to defend himself, and he's done that, right? All he needed to do now was find Black and get him to spill, but with the semester closing soon, he feared losing his chance.

"What happened here?" Shouted Theo.

Lost in his own worries he must've not noticed Theo following. Speaking of which, "Did you follow me here?"

"I wouldn't say to that. . ." Theo played, having been caught and jumping out from know where, he realizes it was mistake. "I saw you running off once Draco had his back turned. What are you doing here?"

Peering over the damage that was caused, Mortimer sighed. Perhaps he over did it... "I was practicing."

Raising a brow, he looks over the fallen tree. "Why? Are you planning on fighting a giant?"

A small laugh, Mortimer couldn't imagine himself taking on a giant. "No, not yet. But i'll get there someday - I wanted to blow off some steam..." Rotating his neck, Theo makes a face of discomfort, appearing uneasy when the sound of bones breaking vented out. "With final exams and the year being almost over - A little bit of fun wouldn't hurt."

His questioning gaze stayed glued. "You think knocking down and tree is fun?"

"I might've gotten carried away." Rubbing the back of his head. Innocently enough, he really did feel bad.

"Try complete and utter bats, I'd say." Mortimer gets a little nervous once Theo takes a few steps forward, coming to stand next to him as the two studied the fractured piece of timber. Growing silent, it's when Theo brings up a question. "Are you sure you're, ok?"

Mortimer was getting tired of hearing that question, he's heard it countless times, it's becoming a real thorn on his side. The easy answer, yes, he was doing quite well. If he wanted to go in the more complicated and emotional route, then he'd say - No, he's not ok, in fact, he's about ready to tear out his hairs, figuratively speaking... Nonetheless, there's enough people out there who knew, and Theo was not on the list. Nor was he taking applications.

"Peachy." Mortimer replies simply. In no need did he require Nott's presence but now that he was here, he thought maybe they should back inside. Mortimer would come back later and try again. This time he'll be careful. "Let's go back. I'm sure Draco has had enough time to write down his lecture."

Laughing, Theo nodded. Yet, his eyes were still stuck on the detriment on the forest. "I suppose you're right. Granted, there isn't enough time for Draco to get his point across, he can hardly ever shut up."

"True." Wayfaring back on the pathway, leading him back to the castle, he can hear from a short distance of Theo following shortly. They've not spoken much, then again, they hardly ever speak at all. He supposed it was because Mortimer has often stuck himself with Luna and Ginny. They were very laid back. and he liked that about them. They didn't pester him with personal questions. And they didn't try to meddle in his business when it was unwanted. They were just... there. It felt nice. He could let his guard down and not worry about what society might think of them later on. It was a shame he was forced to do it in secret.

While Mortimer did consider him a friend, Theo was more so closer with Greengrass and Davis. Theo's excuse was the boys here were too dumb to keep up with him. Mortimer just thinks it's because he had crush on Davis. He's seen it a couple times where Nott would find excuses to sit next to her and pretend, he didn't see Tracy's hand as their skin would make contact. It was kind of cute... in a stalk-ish, creepy kind of way...

"You know, if you ever need some training... I could teach you." Theo spoke quietly, flocks of his auburn hair blew back to show Mortimer at his earnest. "I mean, defense, of course. I wouldn't want you to do what you did to that poor tree."

Passing a few indistinctly bushes, Mortimer's eyes widened, the offer coming to him unexpectedly, he wasn't sure what to say. The answer to him was always an automatic no. Getting help would be dangerous for not only him, but for Theo as well. No, he couldn't get him involved, he'd ask questions, he'd know. Theo can't know, no one can. It was one of the reasons. But in spite of that, the very main reason - As shameful as it was to admit... It was pride, once again, that was stopping him from saying yes. In his world, he doesn't need anybody to help him. He can do it alone and there's no one there to tell him what to do. No one to tell him the 'correct way' to fix his problems, no one to intervene... to stop him from doing what he was planning. He slowly comes to the realization of why he out here today, throwing aggressive spells and beating up on stupid tree.

He was planning on murdering someone... and he was okay with that.

Mortimer wasn't going to bat an eye over the loss. Why should he turn the other cheek? He was only doing what Justice wants and screw what Morality had to say about it. A sigh. It was a case of Justice versus Morality. Justice demands we retaliate to balance the harm that was caused. Whereas morality says, it'll only bring more harm. Some might argue killing Black, they'd be a murderer themselves. If anything, Mortimer was merely finishing what the Dementors could not.

Black took his eye, and now Mortimer was going to take his.

"Whatever it is you're thinking about doing," Theo says, his voice somber, almost as he could sense a presence of danger. "It's not worth going through."

As if Theo could somehow hear what he was thinking, Mortimer was quick to argue - Had stopped only to relax his body and his mind. No, he would not react carelessly. Placing his shields up, his lips curved to form a smile. "Oh Theo. . ." Shaking his head, his tone mimicking as if he was somewhat hurt by his words. "What goes through that head of yours... Where on earth did you come up with such a silly question? Do you think I'm planning something?"

Stopping in the middle of his tracks, surrounded by the tall trees, the sun, blocked by clouds, created a grey, dull, eerie environment. The air between them turned suddenly cold. Theo could hardly think, his shoulders sharpen. Although, Mortimer remained passive, waiting for Theo to respond.

Does he have the courage to respond? "Theo? Is something wrong?" He said emptily, tilting his head slightly, it felt as though Mortimer was somehow making fun of him. "You seem nervous..." Smirking, he patted his friend on the shoulders. He ended up resting his hands there to stop Theo from avoiding him. "Am I making you nervous?"

The intimidation seemed to be working. Not something he was proud of. But had to keep going, wanted to, in fact. Theo's lack of expression made Mortimer feel good, it's what he gets for snooping. No response, he just kept looking at him. There was fear. Fear? Why would he fear him? Mortimer wouldn't hurt him... He hasn't given him a reason to.

"I-I um," Putting his sights where Mortimer had his hand, he clears his throat. "N-No."

Mortimer wasn't quite convinced. "Are you sure? You don't look so good." Removing his left hand, he places it over his forehead. "You feel awfully warm. Maybe you should pay the hospital wing a visit."

Funny, Theo has yet to blink. "Ye-Yeah, maybe I should."

Letting go of Theo, the boy couldn't have left any faster as he practically sprinted right out of the area. But before could leave entirely, Mortimer spoke up. "Theo." A flash of panic becomes known through his hazel eyes; he waits. "We can practice over the summer."

Mortimer thought he saw Theo gulping. "What do I tell my father?"

"Tell him anything besides what we're doing."

Pressing his lips to thin line, Theo asks. "Should I expect Draco to join us as well?"

Taking this small moment to think, Mortimer gives him a single nod. While he didn't think it was a good idea to bring Draco in, this was something he couldn't hide from him. There'd be too many questions, too many spats that will only increase with time, further tensing the atmosphere around them.

Mortimer didn't want that now that they've finally found a standing ground where they could trust each other. He'd tell him, but for now, he's main focus is to finish the term and go after Black.

Watching Theo run off, Mortimer waits until Theo can no longer be seen. Kicking a pile of dirt, he stuffs his hands inside his pockets, feeling a tad foolish for letting Theo see him in this frustrating state. What's worse is having to now involve Draco.

On the bright side, he found an activity they both can do together.

Oh, who was kidding. He frowned - This was a terrible idea...

---

Heading inside the Slytherin common room, he was greeted by Draco's scolding expression.

He wouldn't argue with him not today at least. As Draco was preparing his speech, Mortimer raises his finger. "Don't say anything..." he exhales, slouching his shoulders in defeat. "I know..."

"Then?"

"I needed to think..." He answers - somewhat somber. "alone."

Whenever he needed to be 'alone', Draco understood what it entailed. In other words, 'Back off, I'm moody'. And though nothing would please Draco more as to ferret right into his business, he thankfully moved away. Signaling to follow, Mortimer headed towards one of the unoccupied couches. Theo and the other girls were nowhere to be found. The only occupants here were a few older students and second years, attempting to finish up their work.

"Finals are always a stress." Draco began, dropping back on the dark leathery seat. "Can't wait to be done with it all."

"Any plans for the summer?" Mortimer asks, rubbing the side of his face.

Laying back, Draco folded his hands together, resting them on the top of his chest. "Probably go and visit Goyle, despite being brute, he carries a nice collection of Quidditch memorabilia. And Crabbe's home has pitch, so I'll probably end up going there as well for practice. What about you? Planning on running off, again?"

Rolling his eyes, Draco will never let him live it down... Seeing as he was unwilling to forget, Mortimer wasn't sure what he could possibly do to convince him it was a stupid mistake. Terrible as it was, Mortimer couldn't say he didn't regret the decision. After thinking about it more, being in the muggle world felt like a breath of fresh air. And the worry of having to embarrass the family wasn't there, he was ignored and disregarded, and he enjoyed that feeling. To everyone else, Mortimer was just some boy doing ordinary things. Yet, part of him did feel bad for having to worry both Aunt Cissy and Draco, it was clear their feelings have been hurt from his careless actions and he didn't blame them.

Briefly, it just occurred to him to wonder just have far they're willing to tolerate him. Would they disown him? Throw him out in the streets? He wanted nothing more than to have them see pass the whole 'blood' thing. Impossible, the Malfoy family saw nothing other than this carefully crafted 'Perfect Family' image. It was repulsing and nauseating at times. Despite their intention, it isn't the world he wanted to live in.

Mortimer didn't want to end the day on a bad note, today was a day for celebration. They did it! They were done with finals. No more studying, no more tests, no more hassles. "I was thinking..."

"Yeah?"

"Maybe we can do something we both enjoy."

Draco was beginning to get suspicious. "What do you have in mind?"

"It's a surprise." Mortimer wouldn't say more, only that he couldn't wait for the summer to begin.

"Augh - Please, no. No more surprises..." Draco nearly begged, face palming at just the thought. "They usually end up putting you in the hospital wing."

A tight-lipped smile, he reassures in "Don't worry, you'll like this one - We both will."

Succumbing to his answer, Draco bops his head, his voice seeming tired, says. "Whatever you say..." Stretching his muscles, Draco decides to get up. "Dinner's about to start soon, we should head down."

"After you, mother."

"You're impossible." He groused.

"Is there no other way to be?"

For that, Draco didn't have an answer. But he did have a noticeable smile that very well-matched Mortimer's own.

---

Arriving at the entrance hall, Mortimer rolled his neck around. Coolly viewing the traveling students making their way towards the great hall. Just as he was about follow suit, he stops to take out the little handheld mirror. It's now become a habit to inspect before going to a crowded room.

At his reflection, Mortimer could spot a twinge of reddish coloring right in the middle of his pupil. The spell must be wearing off... Speedily, he walks towards the corner of the corridor to take out his wand, muttering to himself as he hides away the oddity of his eyes.

Rubbing them gently, he again checks his appearance. Normal.

Dinner was uneventful. Aside from Theo's nervous side glances, Mortimer had kept to himself during the servings of hot cottage pie. Draco, conversing with Blaise, began to share his own plans. Telling the blond he'd spend half of the summer in Italy, they had a summer house near Naples. They would later travel to France to visit her boyfriend's mansion in the city of Lyon. The way Zabini described it, it sounded as though they wouldn't be spending much time there as his mother had met someone with more connections in trade over in Spain.

Once everyone at the great hall had devoured the savory food, the night was fast approaching and before anyone knew, the time for settling down has arrived. Tired, Mortimer followed his group of his slytherins. He could hear student's voices as they descended up the stairs, internally questioning some of the distinct voices he could catch. He had avoided them as much, deeming them unimportant, at least his room was a way to escape the noises.

He must've not been aware of his surroundings when Mortimer realized Draco wasn't in front of him any longer, he had essentially abandoned him to go catch up with Crabbe and Goyle. Regardless, Mortimer barely made it towards the dungeons as his name was instantly called.

"Mortimer! There you are!"

Snapping his head to the left, he gritted his teeth find Potter running towards him. He was soooo not in the mood to be dealing with him right now. However, seeing his upset glower, Mortimer was curious to find out what could've caused it.

Rubbing a hand over his face in a tired motion, he faces the nerdy looking kid. "What do you want?"

Catching his breath, Harry huffs out. "I thought you said you'd help."

Oh... he was talking about the hippogriff. Scratching his chin lightly, he responds. "I said I'd ask. And I did."

His hands clenched shut, Harry wasn't at all pleased to hear. "Well, it doesn't matter now, does it?" Shaking his head. His tone bitter for what's to come. "They're going to kill Buckbeak..."

Strange, he thought it would've taken longer. If Hagrid was competent enough, he could've convinced them the beast was no threat. And realizing now this was Hagrid they were talking about... Well, Mortimer could see how fast they've made up their minds. "What about the appeal?"

"He lost." Harry's answer, sounding disheartened, Mortimer felt for the half-giant. Despite that, it wasn't Mortimer's business, he did as ask. If the fates have decided that the territorial beast should die, so be it. Suddenly Potter grew colder with his words. "It wouldn't have matter anyways... Because Malfoy's already decided. And Malfoy always gets what he wants."

Harry had not wasted the opportunity to further bash his name by saying such things. His blood boils at the insult. He dared speak of Draco when he had no idea the kind of pressure he was under. "Watch it." Mortimer warns. "Just because the title 'Chosen One' was given to you, doesn't mean you get make demands on others." Straightening his back, he somehow became taller in his demeanor. "Act like you're somehow the exception. It's so irresponsible, very haughty of you to think foolishness is rewarded."

A slow satisfying grin appears across his face when Potter's takes a step back, his cheeks burning in harsh red. His intention to upset the gryffindor was his aim. Making him speechless was just an added bonus. Fortunately for him, Harry wasn't his enemy, that much is true. Afterall, he's supposed to be the one to rid of his father. Sure, Harry doesn't strike him as the heroic type, but everyone seems so sure of it.

But that was beside the point.

Going back to Potter's brutal stare, he was amazed when he didn't immediately try to counter his words. At the same time, he looked about ready to sock him right on the face. But just as Potter was ready to open his mouth, Hermione comes out from right over the corner.

She was carrying what appeared to be a cloak, talking rapidly, she urges him "Harry! If we're going to save Buckbeak, we have to hurry!"

Turning over to Mortimer, Harry gives him a face.

In response, Black folds his arms smirking and giving him the 'I told you so' look'. Ignoring, Granger's sudden nervous glance, Harry has yet to move. A sigh, Mortimer shoo's him with a wave of his hand. "Go on Potter, be the hero everyone expects you to be."

"Let's go mate!" Hearing, Weasley's voice from a distance.

Tugging at his sleeve, Harry quickly snaps out of his gaze. Nodding and taking the cloak, the trio run out into the distance, leaving Mortimer in the middle of hall.

Mortimer watched the group leave, intending to see where they were going since it wasn't in the direction of the gryffindor common room. He was rather oblivious, not looking around and focusing straight forward. "Good riddance." Mortimer said in hush tone, stuffing his hands in his pocket, he was about to head down. Of course, he was not much in hurry to throw himself in bed.

The rows of candelabras were beginning to slowly dim with each step that was taken. Wavering, he stared towards the window for a while, noting the sky outside. The night drew in, becoming a blend of dark and deep blue. It was fitting, clouds dominating the skies showed no indication of a moon. No matter, Mortimer felt at peace, whether it was because of his Occlumency, or he simply stopped caring. He wanted to avoid the overbearing crowd of his housemates. There were times where he wanted to spend his days alone. To get up one day, pack his stuff, and leave. Tempting in doing so, it wasn't possible. Not without hurting those who cared for him. And though, the number was small, he cared for every single one of them.

While his heart spoke to him in a soft in beating tone that eased could easily balm the pestering worries surrounding him, his mind gave a different narrative. A constant battle between the two, there was no reasoning. And up until now, Mortimer had always listened to the voice that told him to be weary of everyone. To get them before they get you because the only person one can truly rely on is oneself.

Conflicted, Mortimer could see himself through the glass window. His hair had started to grow again, his cheeks were uncommonly milk-white, both eyes and mouth were colorless. Nothing new to him, he supposed he's lingered enough, wondering why Draco hadn't looked for him.

After several minutes of just him standing there, Mortimer led the way to dungeon floor. Empty, Mortimer doubted he'd find anyone here. Passing a few doors, he continued his walk. There was no indication of a presence, and yet stopped when he heard a thumping noise, someone was knocking trying to get attention from anyone.

The noise wasn't far off too, maybe four, three doors up. Concernedly, Mortimer began to open each door on his left, releasing an irritating noise when he found them empty. He wasn't sure how many doors he opened but the kept going when the noises were getting louder and closer to him.

"Mmmphf!" A panicked jumbled of mumblings, Draco sprangled right out of the broom closet. Tied up like a hog, he squirmed in terror.

"Holy shit! Draco?" Mortimer yelled, grabbing him before he could hit the ground. Gently setting hos body down, he quickly removes the rag that was tied around his mouth. Trying to remove the rest of the binds, he becomes increasingly angry when Draco simply wouldn't let him. "Stop squirming! I'm trying to get it off you -"

Wriggling around, Mortimer was having trouble controlling him. Draco began breathing heavily, shaking his head vigorously, he shouts. "It was him! He was here!"

"What?" He uttered. "Who?"

As if Draco was hit with a silencing spell, he turns mute, his eyes dilating, looking pass Mortimer. "Behind you."

The warning did the trick and Mortimer's body stiffened up, his eyes flickering back. Before he could spend much time contemplating his next move, a tall shadow loomed over the two. As if on his cue, he heard footsteps running down his way. Mortimer wasn't given enough time to face the attack as his observations was interrupted by a rapid swing.

It sent him flying right down.

Despite footsteps approaching him, Mortimer doesn't flinch, his heart thudded unevenly at the dim awareness of the figure lowering himself to the floor beside him. Numbness in his head, he could barely see anything, aside from the bright flashes of light, he was quite literally seeing stars. Fighting to stay awake, there was a strange sensation of everything seeming to move in a slow, sick motion that almost made him want to throw up. There were hands, he could feel hands on him, rough, tight and gripping hands dragging him away from Draco.

He wanted to put an end to it, he really did. Yet, it was sadly not possible at the moment, reaching a point where everything was shutting off.

Hardly hearing, Mortimer lazily darts his eyes, still unfocused, could barely make out Draco's horror-stricken face, tied and helpless he tries crawling. Was he yelling? It sure did look like he was yelling. Who was he yelling at? Was he yelling at him? What did he do?

The dark formless shape shifting the edges of his vision, he is able to get a glimpse of the attacker. Those seconds were short lived, his focus was broken once he is able to comprehend at the intention. "L- Let-" He groans, looking for something to hold on. "me... go. . ."

It must've worked, he was no longer being moved. In fact, he couldn't feel the hands that were once dragging him through the dungeons. All the same, the exhaustion and the pain were too much for him. For the last thing he remembered was a silhouette coming near him, raising its arms just above its head - Another strike.

And then, Blankness.